WHOS: a holiday fic
by NivalVixen2
Summary: COMPLETE! Draco playing pro-Quidditch, Blaise and Ginny are tired of the fangirls (and fanboys) throwing themselves at Draco. So they do something to ... dissuade the fans.


For AirmidM  
Prompt: DGB, Ron/Pansy or Hermione/Charlie - Draco playing pro-Quidditch, Blaise and Ginny are tired of the fangirls (and fanboys) throwing themselves at Draco. So they do something to ... dissuade the fans.

...

The Quidditch World Cup was a yearly event that everyone looked forward to; the fans just as much as the players. The _partners_ of the players, not so much. There was a regular meet up before the Quidditch World Cup that few knew about and even fewer were allowed to attend: the Wives, Husbands, and Other Significants (WHOS) club.

It wasn't so much a club as a way for the significant others - whether wives, husbands, or something else entirely - of the pro-Quidditch players to get drunk and commiserate over the fans of pro-Quidditch players. In particular, the fans who grabbed onto their wives, husbands, or something else entirely; the ones who tore at their clothing; the ones who attempted to seduce them; the ones who misguidedly believed that _they_ were better for the players than their wives, husbands, or something else entirely were.

Mostly, the meet up involved several bottles of Firewhiskey, daffodil wine, an assortment of varied strength alcohol from across the world, and if Bulgaria were playing (which they always were), extremely small and extremely potent Russian vodka, courtesy of Krum's husband, Sergei Petrov.

"They... They - _hic_ \- are turning up... _naked_ now," Sergei mumbled. "Naked in - _hic_ \- in _Russian_ winter. One boy - _hic_ \- nearly froze - _hic_ \- _hic_ \- froze his..." he trailed off and made a vague gesture downwards.

Most people winced in sympathy or vague horror.

"Ooh, not even a Warming Charm? Bloody idiots," Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I swear, I've had to put so many Concealing Charms on Ron, I hardly recognise him anymore. Well, unless he's naked," she said, tilting her head back and taking her shot of vodka.

"Oh gods, I wish we'd arrived even thirty seconds later," Ginny said, wincing and turning to burrow her head against Blaise's shoulder. "We could've been fashionably late instead."

"I did offer," Blaise pointed out.

"No, you offered to shag me silly; we _both_ know that takes significantly more time than thirty seconds," Ginny said, grinning up at him.

"Another eight minutes and thirty seconds, then you'd just be arriving late, never mind fashionably," Pansy said from behind them, holding two shots of vodka.

Blaise and Ginny took them and downed them. Blaise immediately started coughing, his eyes watering. "Bloody hell, Sergei. That's even stronger than last year!"

"Not strong enough," Sergei called back.

"What's wrong with Sergei?" Ginny asked.

"Fans are turning up naked to matches. In winter," Pansy added.

"Sodding hell. If any of this lot start, they'll have to start offering Memory Charms at the doors," Blaise said, shuddering.

"Oh, imagine old Mrs. Whistler?!" Ginny said, sounding both disgusted and amused at her own thought.

Pansy did a full body shudder in response. "I'm going to need a full glass of Sergei's vodka to get rid of that image. You're disgusting and I'm so utterly proud, Gin."

"I'm not. Bloody hell," Blaise said, looking horrified. "Is Katie in yet?"

"No, she's out on the field, remember? The other team got disqualified," Pansy added.

"It was their own fault; that referee was only found because her family had a locator spell on their family clock," Ginny pointed out.

"Yes, well, it's one of the first times the team's been punished for the fans' actions. You can understand why they're upset."

"Would've been better if they started doing that last year!" Flint called from across the room, already six shots and three Firewhiskeys in. "Could've been out there getting ready. But no, it's Katie instead."

"Shall I tell your wife that, or would you like to?" Ginny asked.

"Shut up," Flint said eloquently, glaring at her from behind his goblet.

"Need I remind you that you're drunk and Ginny is still sober, Flint? You've never been able to best her in a duel even when it's been the opposite between you two?" Blaise said, his glare withering Flint back into his armchair.

"You shouldn't have encouraged the fans to drop that poor woman in the middle of nowhere, Flint. Stop being a sore loser, you arse," Pansy called.

He pulled a face, but wisely stayed silent.

"Why can't the fans be punished instead?" someone muttered, the voice too slurred to be recognised clearly.

The string of expletives that followed made recognition far easier to come by, and Ginny made her way through the room to sit by Oliver Wood, who was underneath several blankets, throw pillows, and oddly, a hat.

"All right there, Wood?" she asked, lifting the hat off his face.

"Fine. Be better if I was out there though," he admitted, completely sloshed, yet still raising a bottle of rum to his lips.

"Bloody hell, when did you start drinking, Wood?" Blaise asked, pulling a face at the smell that seemed to be oozing out of Wood's body despite the coverings.

Oliver blinked owlishly up at Blaise. "Yesterday when they disqualified us."

"He's gone past the drunk-to-sober phase _four_ times so far," Pansy informed them. "I've only been here since this morning," she added. "He's being cut off after that one, or he might do something really stupid like try to leave."

Wood slurred something back at her. Ginny figured it was a good thing that it was so unintelligible that no one knew if it was a threat, curse, or just general ranting.

"It's all right, Wood. The disqualification's only for this game. The next one will be better," Blaise said consolingly.

"This!" Wood announced, blinking and then taking a few deep breaths. " _World! Bloody! Cup!_ "

"Yeah, that does suck. But drinking yourself into oblivion won't help; you won't be able to fly if you're in oblivion," Blaise added, hoping that he hadn't just convinced Wood to fly while drunk _again_.

Ginny smacked him on the shoulder. "You're lucky he's too drunk to take that as a challenge."

Blaise nodded and on the floor, Wood took a final gulp of rum. With the bottle finished, Pansy's spell took affect, and Wood curled up as he fell asleep.

"You should tell the twins he sleeps like he's holding a broom," Blaise snickered to Ginny.

"I don't think I should put him through that. It may be useful for future blackmail purposes, though."

Blaise snickered and kissed Ginny, so utterly proud.

"How long until we have to be out there cheering?" Blaise asked the room in general, knowing someone would have a countdown going.

Vials full of sobering potions were sitting by the door. Neither Blaise nor Ginny expected Wood to make it that far.

"Two and a half hours," one of the veelas called, raising her goblet in salute.

Pansy put a timer above the door for two hours, allowing everyone enough time to get well and properly wasted, and then sober again.

"All right, people! Quiz time. Those who can stand, stand up now. Those who can't, raise your hands," Pansy called out.

Ginny accepted a bottle of Firewhiskey from the floating tray, passing one to Blaise, who nodded in thanks.

"First question: who has had their WHOS flashed by fans?"

One person sat down while everyone else had a black tally mark appear on their arm. Regrettably, it had been Mr. Whistler.

"Who has had their WHOS physically grabbed by fans?"

The person stood up again, their first tally mark appearing with the second on the others' arms. Blaise had Side-Apparated the witch away the minute she'd dug her nails into Draco's arm. As he was legally Draco's husband **and** bodyguard, he was within his rights to remove her however he saw fit. His only regret is not hexing the witch for touching _his_ husband.

"Who has had their WHOS accosted by the media?"

No one moved. This year, journalists had decided to start telling Quidditch stars that their WHOS were dead or hurt or otherwise in soul-piercing agony, just to get a response from them. (Quibbler headline news: _Draco Malfoy attacks Rita Skeeter, journalist for The Daily Prophet, after being falsely told that his wife and husband are in hospital_.)

"Who has had drinks and/or food thrown at them for being with their WHOS?"

Two people sat down. Ginny had had the memorable experience of having a tomato thrown at her while shopping for food. Her instincts had kicked in and she'd blasted the tomato into a thin juice in mid-air, the man who'd thrown it pale and jaw-dropped at the sight. It was the first and last time it had happened.

"Who has had been anonymously insulted or slurred at for being with their WHOS?"

The two people stood up again. Three weeks of _Witch Weekly_ 's 'fan column' had listed an ongoing argument between so-called fans about Ginny and Blaise's relationship with Draco. Ginny had bought every copy the next week and completely and utterly _destroyed_ them. Blaise had willingly and eagerly helped.

"Who has had fans say to their face that they would be better for their WHOS than they are?"

Flint's arm was lowered; Ginny suspected it was only because no one would dare insult Flint to his face. Both she and Blaise had been called a number of things - selfish, hoarders, sluts, among some names - for their relationship with Draco. Apparently, they were "taking Draco away" from the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes who "deserved" him.

"Who has had fans attempt to seduce their WHOS away?"

Flint's arm was raised again. Both Ginny and Blaise clutched at the other's hand fiercely; that had not been a pleasant experience to say the least. She was just thankful that Draco had agreed to press charges on the wizard, even though his use of illegally-obtained international-strength love potions was enough to keep him imprisoned for several years anyway. The magical restraining order was definitely necessary, as the wizard had managed to escape and tried to get to Draco as he was recovering from the ordeal; the fact that Ron had re-worded the restraining order so that the wizard was set alight anytime he came within 10 metres of Draco was a bonus. (Ron had had Romilda Vane attempt something similar earlier in the year; Ginny still wasn't sure if she'd returned from her "overseas holiday" that Pansy had left her on yet.)

"Who has had people try to persuade their WHOS to quit Quidditch?"

Surprisingly, Narcissa, Molly, and Loretta were quite pleased with Draco's Quidditch career. Instead, it was Arthur who had been encouraging Draco to quit. No one was sure why, and even Draco looked baffled whenever Arthur brought it up in conversation.

"And lastly, who has had their WHOS harassed by..." Pansy paused here, looking between the people still standing. "Owl post?"

Most people sat down. There were strict regulations regarding players' privacy, and while it wasn't unheard of to accost and harass players and their WHOS in the streets, actually _owling_ them was a line that very few dared to cross.

Three people stayed standing: Ginny, Blaise, and Sergei (who technically had his arm raised).

"Sergei, since you arrived on time, you get to go first," Pansy said, nodding to him.

"In Russia we have eagle; that still counts, no?"

"It counts."

"Good. We have eagle for owls. A fan figured I do not have same protection as Viktor, sends eagle to me instead. One of the singing love notes," Sergei added with a look of disgust. "I send it back with Howler," he said proudly.

"Not bad. Ginny, Blaise, your turn," Pansy said, as curious as the rest of the crowd since she hadn't heard of any owls to them.

"Ours starts like Sergei: a fan realised that I don't have the same protection as Draco for his Quidditch or Gin for being Gin," Blaise said. "So I get sent an owl, but it's junk mail with someone else's name, so I don't think much of it. Only, the letter has a charm on it. As soon as I touch it, they've got my DNA. Of course, I think it's spam mail, so I send it back, return to sender. Except..." Blaise trailed off, took a swig of his Firewhiskey, then continued, "The Floo system upgrade requires personal DNA to unlock it."

Everyone went silent, thinking ahead to what the fan might possibly do or have done. _No one had seen Draco before they arrived, and Blaise and Ginny had arrived late; were they even still together?_

Ginny looked at Blaise, who nodded at her, so she continued for him. "They accessed our Floo system, made it through the grate, and used Polyjuice Potion to look like Blaise. We all came home from dinner to find this person naked on our bed. They tried to convince us that Blaise was an imposter, and... well, you know what Draco went through with the Death Eaters. He... uh," she coughed here, eyes welling up with tears.

It had taken _years_ for Draco to come to terms what had happened in the war, and it had almost been unravelled in a mere five minutes by some asshole who thought she and Blaise were selfishly hoarding him when all they were trying to do was keep their lover, their husband, in one piece long enough to finish a Quidditch game so they could go back home to recover from the noise and screaming and sounds.

"Just skip to the end, love," Pansy murmured, no one arguing.

"Aurors came within ten seconds and we've all pressed charges; the Floo grate number's been changed and our access has been upgraded free of charge by the Ministry since it should have recognised a Polyjuice Potion; and while the person is still in St. Mungo's, they're not in the morgue. Unfortunately. Narcissa and Loretta are going to deal with them when they're finally conscious. My mother might join them," Ginny added.

Blaise was gripping her hand so tightly it would probably bruise, but Ginny didn't care about that. She knew that he felt guilty about everything that had happened, even though he wasn't to blame and it sure as fuck wasn't his fault. Both she and Draco had spent a good three hours trying to convince Blaise just that afternoon, but it didn't seem to have helped as well as they'd hoped. Draco was already a bundle of nerves and stress with the Quidditch World Cup, so Ginny had sent him along with a reassuring smile and kiss, and spent an extra fifteen minutes with Blaise to get him presentable for the WHOS meet up.

A series of heated Russian curses came from Sergei and he looked utterly disgusted. "You win. Anyone tries that with Viktor, I kill them. In Russia, no one will be upset with me - " he spat on the floor, dangerously close to Pansy's shoes " - _pah!_ Russian Ministry help me bury the body."

Blaise's shoulders started to shake and Ginny looked to him in concern. Then Blaise started laughing, almost hysterically, and he dropped his bottle of Firewhiskey. It floated to the ground harmlessly - another of Pansy's spells - as Blaise gasped for breath between his peals of laughter. Sergei simply looked proud that he'd made Blaise laugh.

Ginny held Blaise, ignoring everyone else around them, and waited until he had calmed down before gently drawing away. "Okay now?"

"Better," Blaise agreed. He cleaned himself up with his wand.

Around them, no one teased or taunted him or even gave pitying glances; Blaise wasn't the first person to break down at one of these meet ups. Usually the witch or wizard had had more alcohol, but they all silently agreed that if they'd been in Blaise or Ginny's shoes, they probably wouldn't have made it through the door without breaking down completely.

"All right. We've got fifty-five minutes to get drunk. As winners, Ginny and Blaise get to choose the next thirty minutes worth of drinks!" Pansy announced.

"If it's that liquorice-flavoured crap, I'll just stay sober!" someone called out.

"Screw you, Moon."

"Not if you paid me a million Galleons," she called back.

Blaise went to the bar to start rifling through the bottles. He put Anisette aside just for Moon, then picked out the scotch for Ginny and the Everclear for the rest of the sorry WHOS in the room. Everclear was a Muggle drink made of 95 percent alcohol and banned in several US states. It probably should have been banned in the wizarding world overall since 151- and 190-proof alcohol did _not_ mix well with magic, wizards, or witches in any way, shape, or form. He figured that Pansy's sobering potions were strong enough to deal with the alcohol, so why the hell not?

Blaise poured out a shot for himself and Ginny. The bar duplicated the shot for every person in the room (except Oliver, who was now snoring under the hat).

"I hate you, Zabini," Moon called, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"You'll love me in about ten seconds," he called back, raising his shot glass. "Fuck the fans."

"Fuck the fans!" the WHOS echoed, Ginny the loudest beside him.

They all drank their shot, coughing and spluttering at the alcohol that was even stronger than Sergei's vodka.

"I love you, Zabini," Moon said, though she looked like she'd swallowed a lemon and was attempting to claw out her own tongue to get rid of the taste, she was doing better than the others around her.

"Here you go, love," Blaise said, handing the bottle of scotch to Ginny.

"Thanks, dearest," she murmured, standing up tall to kiss him.

Ginny figured that they'd get drunk, get sober, and then they'd be okay again. Hopefully, at least.

...

Fifty minutes later, the WHOS left their meet up still a little tipsy. Pansy's sobering potions worked slower on stronger alcohols, it seemed. (They'd left Oliver behind.)

Blaise laughed against Ginny's temple. He couldn't quite remember what the joke was, but it was definitely funny.

"Almost at the game, Blaise. C'mon. Keep walking. All the way up to the top," Ginny said, pushing Blaise towards the stairs. She was just as inebriated as her husband, but had the ability to hide it better.

Blaise grinned. "I know that song; _keep walking all the way to the top! To the top... Of the stairs!_ " he sang, ridiculous and yet still in tune, despite himself. "No, top of the _stars_. No, wait. It's not a song. It should be a song," he mumbled, blinking at the stairs

Ginny kept walking them up to the top, where the WHOS had seats just below the Box. The fans were, of course, just below them, and she couldn't help but scowl at them when they passed by. A few fans recognised them and started booing at them.

"Hey! Back off!" Blaise snapped, instincts as a bodyguard coming into full force.

Flint stood behind him silently and ran a finger across his neck. The fans fell silent immediately and backed away as fast as possible.

"That told 'em," Blaise muttered.

They finally made it to their seats without any more incidents and the walk had sobered them both up a bit more.

"Next year, not so much alcohol and we Apparate up here," Blaise said.

"We _all_ said that last year. Didn't happen then or now," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, but I mean it this time!"

Ginny Accio'd a plate of food from the WHOS reserved table and picked the mushrooms off Blaise's portion, then put her tomatoes on his potion before offering it to him.

"Ooh, tomatoes. Thanks, love. No mushrooms?"

"No mushrooms," Ginny promised.

Blaise finished eating before the teams had even been announced. As the players were announced one by one, they clapped and cheered where appropriate, and when Draco was announced and flew into the stadium, they stood and waved and called as loudly as possible. Draco waved to them with a grin, looking as confident as the rest of the team. Ginny could see how tight he was holding his broom, and in the brief depiction of their husband's face larger than life (and in full technicolour!), Blaise could see that he'd taken their advice and put an earplug in one ear to reduce the noise but still allow him to hear instructions from the team.

"Go Ron!" Pansy yelled beside them, unfurling her banner and waving it in front of her to get her husband's attention.

MY HUSBAND'S A KEEPER!

"Pansy, that's really the best you can come up with?" Blaise asked, rolling his eyes.

The banner started flashing in Cannons orange and Gryffindor red.

"It turns off, right?" Ginny asked, wincing.

"Not until he stops a goal."

"Great, it'll be going for the rest of the night then," Blaise muttered, getting smacked by both women in response. "Ow!"

The game started before they could really rip into him and Blaise hoped they'd forget his comment by halftime. The WHOS all watched nervously, squeezing each other's hands and closing their eyes at close misses of Bludgers, and calling out to referees at fouls and underhanded tactics. Even Flint looked nervous when a Bludger slammed into Katie's broom, even though they all knew from previous experience that she could be hit by a Bludger four times before falling.

The halftime show arrived, feeling a mix between forever and only a few seconds.

"You've been quiet; everything all right, Blaise?" Ginny asked, moving aside for other WHOS to go to the food, drinks, and bathroom.

"Just thinking about what Oliver said."

"What, that this is the World bloody Cup?"

"No, before that: why can't the fans be punished?"

Ginny blinked and then, as she thought about it, at the way the fans threw themselves at Draco at every chance they had without a single rebuff or response from the World Quidditch Association (the WQA were very mindful of the amount of money fans put into Quidditch, no matter what else they did), she figured that Blaise was right. She grinned at her husband. "What were you thinking?"

...

Ginny followed Blaise down the stairs. They only had ten minutes left before the game started again, and Draco would be looking for them. If they weren't in the WHOS seats, he'd worry and that was the last thing they needed in the second half of the World bloody Cup.

As Draco's bodyguard Blaise had access to the WQA security information, including the names of the high-list fans. These were the people who arrived early to practice and stayed late, who stalked and harassed and insulted the WHOS, and who even bodily threw themselves at the players. They were the people who wrote to columns and newspapers and talked to radio stations, who chased after players even while they were out with their WHOS or just trying to have some peace and quiet, who were always there even though it was obvious that they were _not wanted_.

All of the players had lives outside of Quidditch (except perhaps Oliver), and their fans should respect that it was separate to their jobs. Because that's all Quidditch was in the end: a job. Sure, it was a sport and fun and somewhat dangerous, but it was still a job and a way to pay the bills. People generally don't like being yelled at, especially _after_ they've finished working, and Quidditch players were no exception.

Ginny sprinkled the seating with a handful of seeds as Blaise set small bread rolls under the seats carefully. If their spells worked, then this could mean the end of fans harassing Quidditch players for a long time. (Ginny had a moment of regret that they couldn't get to the media stands and back in time.)

With less than a minute to spare, Ginny and Blaise were in their WHOS-designated seats once more. Draco was last into the stadium and immediately smiled and waved to them. No matter what any of the fans thought, the smile and wave that Draco gave every single game was only _ever_ for Ginny and Blaise. They smiled and waved back eagerly, even as Pansy called out to Ron beside her (thankfully, the banner had stopped flashing three minutes into the game).

When the whistle was blown, Ginny and Blaise concentrated on the spell they needed to work. It was simple enough regarding wand movements, but the incantation was long-winded and required concentration. The Snitch appeared, Pansy and Flint both jostling them to watch as Draco sped off to try to catch it. As it always did, the Snitch disappeared before either Seeker could catch it - it never allowed itself to be caught this early in the second half - and they had to start their spell over.

Finally, the spell was done, and Ginny couldn't resist but look over the railing to see if it had taken hold. Nothing happened and she tried not to be too disappointed.

In the air, Draco looped around the goal posts lazily, stopping above the middle highest post to look across the field. There was no Golden Snitch to be seen and probably wouldn't be for a while yet. The other team didn't even have the Quaffle, so he was safe in his position for the moment. Draco looked over to the stands where the WHOS were seated, and more specifically, Ginny and Blaise. They seemed to be in deep conversation about something, or perhaps eating, and he almost wished that he was sitting next to them instead. Even better, he wished they were at home listening to the game on the Wireless instead. They could be curled up in bed, eating something his diet usually wouldn't allow, and -

 _Shit! The Snitch!_

In the stands below, the fans screamed in excitement, urging the players to _fly faster, damn it!_ Suddenly, as Draco's fingers were outstretched for the Snitch, their screams turned into fear. He could even hear the difference through his ear plug, which was enchanted to be insulated to as much outside noise as possible. He tried to block it out but he could _hear_ them so clearly and Draco could even tell that Krum was having trouble to block it out as well. For Seekers who usually became so focused on the Snitch that everything else fell away, it was disconcerting and really fucking annoying.

Ginny and Blaise's eyes widened at the screams. They _may_ have underestimated just how much the alcohol affected their magic, even if they were mostly sober. The spell Ginny had placed on the seeds was meant to soften the seat so they sank towards the bread rolls that Blaise had charmed. The bread rolls were supposed to change into small ropes designed to keep the fans down while they screamed. That was what they intended, at least.

Looking over the railing, Ginny and Blaise could see that the seeds had dissolved the entire seat, completely and utterly, all of the fans stuck on the floor, while the bread rolls had become _huge_ vines that covered and enveloped the fans much like Devil's Snare.

Beside them, Sergei started laughing so hard he almost drowned out the sound of the fans' terrified screams. He clapped both Ginny and Blaise on the shoulders, wiping at his eyes. "You teach me that spell, I use in Russia _and_ Bulgaria!"

Ginny and Blaise looked at each other. Ginny winced when a fan's scream became exceptionally louder. "How long do you think it'll be until they realise it's activated by screaming?"

"Hmm... They'll probably be there all week," Blaise replied with a grin, the first genuine smile he'd given since they'd arrived home to find his lookalike on their bed three days ago.

The WQA officials had to silence the fans in order for the game to continue while they tried to find a herbologist who was available (Neville was on a sudden and spontaneous holiday with Dennis that could probably last for the next two weeks, at the very least), or anyone who might have an idea of how to rectify the spell (Hermione was in Romania with Charlie and couldn't be contacted for the next... oh, let's give it a month).

They didn't win the World Cup, but coming in second to Krum was nothing to laugh at, and Draco was happy when they finally went home that night, WQA officials still trying to deal with the screaming fans.

Blaise spent almost ten minutes laughing as he recounted stories for Draco that night. When he realised what his husband and wife had done, Draco laughed so hard that he fell off the bed.

With her husbands happy and faces full of mirthful laughter, Ginny didn't have a single damn regret about what she'd done. If she had a Time Turner, Ginny knew that she would do it all over again in a heartbeat just to see Draco and Blaise happy.

...

The end.


End file.
